” “I don’t believe it,” he answered hoarsely. " Roused by this reflection, filled with the deepest anxiety for his mother, and burning to be avenged upon Jonathan Wild, he grasped the iron bar, which, when he sat down, he had laid upon his knees, and stepped quickly across the room. Jack was not half your age when he died. A Hand that strove to reach his shoulder, relentless, soulless but lawful. " "Is that all!" retorted Jonathan. With a curt command to her cavalier to get up on the box and give the direction to the interested coachman, he jumped in beside the girl and shut them both into privacy. “Why did you do it?” her aunt urged.
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